


mr sandman

by eggi



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Komaeda Nagito Being Komaeda Nagito, M/M, Mental Instability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, References to God(s), Self-Esteem Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29766798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggi/pseuds/eggi
Summary: With all that has happened to Komaeda, he feels life's a deadend for him and embraces this. After all, what more has he got to lose? When Komaeda stumbles upon a post from sheer luck (ironically), he can't help but look into it for himself.When coincidence stack up on coincidence, Komaeda can't help but feel suspicious of 'new-to-the-neighborhood' Hajime Hinata, who seems to know more than he's letting on.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, komaeda nagito & sdr2 ensemble
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	mr sandman

No day is ever a good day for Komaeda. 

He entertains the thought anyways, as he stares at his nails - black nail polish already chipping off - and sits up in his bed. His hand moves from muscle memory towards his bedside drawer, grabbing at the familiar shape of his phone, he presses (with too much effort to be considered healthy) at the power button, and he’s impressed that his charger didn’t somehow break down and leave his phone dead. When he’s done scrolling through the barren phone for news articles and whatnot, he marvels at the fact he got out of bed in 7 minutes today. 

The thought isn’t even on his own - it’s subconsciously, something he wanted to go away - that maybe, maybe today would be a good day. He scoffs at that, running hand through greasy hair he hadn’t washed in days, turning his phone off, and staring out the window at the rain. The noise of the rain hitting whatever surfaces it could reach was a nice ambience to wake up to. Good weather to read a book.

Despite this, he can’t find it in himself to drag his form to his bookshelf, merely gazing out the door to the rack of clothes he had left out to dry in the sun. His expression takes on a smile of mirth before he starts laughing a bit, tousled his hair with his hand again with some sort of relief, and fell onto the floor while laughing. Komaeda was so naive today it was funny. Of course he couldn’t have a rest, feeling as though whatever otherworldly being chose to mock him. 

At least he knew his luck was as reliable as always, and he ignored the pang in his chest at the notion that today was just a day akin to the others before, lungs burning at how hard he was laughing. 

~ 

He’s barely aware it’s noon when he stumbles his heavy body down the stairs, acting far too tired for someone who had slept near 12 hours the night before. It was only when diluted grey-green eyes focused on the refined clock perched above a shelf with succulents that he realized it had passed 12pm and was now bordering 1:01pm. 

Komaeda feels a smile ebb onto his dull expression, and he scoffs. He really was pathetic, wasn’t he? His throat was still sore, his chest still ached and his body wouldn’t do what he commanded, so what was the point? Being enslaved to his own body despite being conscious… it was truly the weakest point he could ever be in. He ignores the food made for him by his maids, ignores the hard work because he can't bear eating something that was for someone much more deserving (he ignores he has used this excuse countless of times), and makes toast instead. 

He ignores his stomach’s protests after he finishes his food, ignores how his body hungers for more than the bare minimum, ignores everything and anything that would pose something against himself. At this point he doesn’t even think he deserves any kind of sustenance, a choked laugh once again rising from his chest. 

He was sure whoever tended to his home was worried. He was sure that they wondered why he paid them to be with him in his abode when he didn’t even use them or ask for their help. Maybe it was the sentimental value that he was able to have someone in his home other than him that kept him from telling them all to go home from their job. He remembers being told he paid too much for them once, by a maid of his that had stayed far longer for his well being than for the pay. 

His hand clutches at the table’s edge, trembling. He wouldn’t let himself get close to anyone ever again, he promises, with his chapped lips upturning into what had to be the most pitiful excuse of a smile anyone would ever see. He feels like collapsing with how much physical strength he put into holding onto the table, arms shaking with the effort. Komaeda feels like he’s floating away again, hatred pooling low in his stomach. He still remembers red and blue lights and sirens and it’s almost like he can feel the lights in his eyes and the noise blaring and hurting his ears- 

Komaeda barely registers that he wasn’t breathing until his lungs hurt and his legs are shaking. His hands are paler and he feels like crying and he wishes he could. Instead, he lets himself fall down onto the floor, arms hugging his knees to his chest with his chin resting on the top of his knees. He sort of wished that he had never met her, whose smiles were too gentle and kind to be directed at him. At this point, he… he really couldn’t get any friends at this point, could he? He was naive enough to believe that in the month he was with her he could ease his paranoia surrounding his luck and then - 

His hands are shaking again, and he tries stabilizing them by clenching and unclenching his fists. He inhales, leans on the island table for support, and stands up with shaky legs. Despite all this effort put into just standing up, he takes long strides away from the kitchen and back up the stairs with a poise he only acquired after years of practice. 

~

It was a bit past 3pm now, and Komaeda was laying in bed with his window curtains drawn and lights turned off. The rain was still at it, seeming to pour harder than in the morning, and what seemed to be comforting background noise pestered at the back of Komaeda’s head, nagging at him for not doing anything but sitting around and panicking for no reason. 

Komaeda still ignores whatever his head was trying to tell him, ignores how much he wants to get out of his much too extravagant room. Instead he folds the tip of the page he was reading into a - what was it called? - a dog ear fold (ironically) and places his favorite book he had read over and over down onto his bedside drawer. He instead takes out his phone - and as much as his phone made his eyes hurt and make him exhausted from doing nothing but taking notes on what happened that day and reading the news, it was better than doing nothing - and swipes at his screen until he absentmindedly tapped onto Reddit. It was fun to watch people live out their lives and it was fun watching discussions go back and forth, he supposed, and even though there was nonsense posted and inaccurate news spreading around, it was fun reading into a community who treated anomalies in their life as something horrific (Komaeda had to bite down a laugh that something considered traumatizing was seen as routine to him). 

His thumb pauses its mindless scrolling when a post titled “mr sandman” caught his eye. As he clicked on the post to read something of such a name, the more nonsensical it became. A man who made your wishes come true, huh? He lets himself smile again, snorting as his hand rests on the bottom half of his face. The world wasn’t that merciful - that was something he had learned much too early - and he knew that some post like this was sheer blasphemy. Still, curiosity gripped at his mind - the greatest trait of humans, yet the most exploitable, he muses as an afterthought - and he can’t stop his traitorous rotting brain from clicking onto the link provided. 

This… wasn’t so hard at all, was it? All he had to do was say something along the template provided, apparently, which was decorated to be so cutesy with kaomojis dotting around the border and even in the lines themselves. He finds himself scoffing again as he reminisces to his luck always throwing a fastball at him yet refusing to let him die as such; he didn’t want to live like this was the bottom line, no matter how much he said he deserved it, Komaeda… he didn’t want to live a life full of grieving and nothing but laying around for the rest of his dying days. 

“I wonder how this will turn out,” he muses, voice warbling and cracking from lack of usage throughout the week and probably longer, speaking to no one but himself in the room as his eyes scanned the screen once again. What did he want, really? He could wish for a contentful life, maybe one he would be happy to die on the spot as soon as it was achieved, perhaps even ask to end it all painlessly in a way disguised as his own illness finally turning the tides onto him. Yet, after all the careful consideration he had pondered, he still couldn’t find something worthy of such a ‘wish’. Perhaps he needed to step out of his comfort zone. 

He scrolls slowly again, reciting the script in his head before inhaling shakily, anxiety rattling between his ribs (when did he get so worried?) and finally, he lets himself speak. 

“Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream. Some company and someone to lighten my heart who’s as lonely as I am, maybe.” Komaeda finishes in one breath, and the sentences rushed out too fast for him to actually understand what he said himself. His voice was hushed and made sure no one could hear and yet embarrassment flared in his face, face finally pigmented to a healthier shade as he grabbed a pillow to shove his face in. 

Never again, he thought, would he make a fool of himself again in that manner. He feels a snort escape him yet again, though, for that was probably the best feeling he had all week - embarrassment, huh? Despite him being reserved and mostly having no dignity for some reason that… was different. He clutches onto his pillow harder as he lets his body fall onto the mattress below him, phone long forgotten as he chuckles to himself in breathy wheezes. 

Whatever, he thought. No matter if this sandman was real or not, no deity or otherworldly being would cast him a second glance and decide on a good life for him. His luck was a testament to that, and suddenly, his mood sours. He turns over, drapes a blanket over himself and lets his grip waver. There’s only the pitter patter of the rain outside that keeps him company, and he finds himself - against his own wishes - falling back asleep. 

~ 

Somewhere farther above where Komaeda lay was someone with inky black hair that cascaded down and everywhere like a waterfall, stars placed in between strands of what would be unidentifiable without the warm light of them with a cold expression on their face. No one would expect that someone who looked so similar to the void would smile, cold ruby eyes finally holding warmth. 

As a pale hand runs across the clouds they were perched on, the person lets out a hum of approval. 

“Nagito Komaeda, huh?” 

**Author's Note:**

> HIIi SORRY FOR NOT POSTING FOR EONS AND DECADES. DARE I SAY LIGHT YEARS??   
> mostly a personal indulgent fic and i love it so much i cherish it YOU GUYS ARE NOT READY FOR WHAT I HAVE PLANNED I PROMISE I PROMISE I'M ORIGINAL AND COOL AND GOOD AT THIS 
> 
> i am totally prepared for future chapters after i poured my heart and soul into this ONE singular chapter. yeah. leans against the 4 page google doc for this singular chapter but cooly. i'm all good 
> 
> im honestly !! v happy witht his so i hope i don't read it again and find it to be so ugly and dumb


End file.
